


Power Speaks to Power

by songquake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songquake/pseuds/songquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle <i>will</i> become the most powerful student at Hogwarts – by any means necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Speaks to Power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvscharlie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvscharlie/gifts).



> **Warnings:** Dark Themes, non-verbal _Legilimency_ Obvious (though somewhat relieving) Failure to Smut.
> 
> Written as a gift for luvscharlie in October, 2010. Darling, I'm sorry this is unbeta'd. And smut-less. But I hope you like it anyway! I was rather excited to realise you have a Tom/Minerva kink, as imagining the two of them at Hogwarts is unbelievably intriguing.

_He_ knew she was powerful.

Most people were a bit turned off by Minerva McGonagall, Head Girl of Hogwarts. Behind her prim-and-proper presentation most could see a grittiness, a raw determination, and a certain… _partisanship_ that was, arguably, unbecoming of a Head Girl. 

She did have a reputation for being scrupulously fair, of course. But Tom Riddle knew well that, even to her, some students were more equal than others, as they said about those Russian Muggles. That is, Slytherin students were, patently, more likely to catch her attention when breaking school rules. 

Minerva McGonagall was the only prefect who had turned a suspicious eye in his direction during his games the year before. Frankly, Tom thought it possible that she had spoken _against_ him to barmy old Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet, though the latter would never believe a word against him.

_Foolish girl. She should have known better than to make herself a target._

For Tom knew his suspicions were usually accurate. Which meant that if he were going to become the most powerful student the next year, if he wanted to seal up the awe and patronage he already received from students outside of Slytherin, he would need to win over McGonagall. He would need to _subvert_ her, keep her from attempting to sabotage his rise a second time. 

He studied her, during the first Prefects' Meeting of Winter Term. Though her robes were open, she hadn't even loosened her school tie. Her ankles, wrapped in their sensible low boots, were crossed and her knees pressed together; her skirt fell neatly, perfectly, over her legs, leaving just _everything_ to the imagination. 

She ran her meetings with brutal efficiency. Tom knew it was Not the Done Thing for a man, a man of _his_ talent, of _his_ stature, to admire and seek to emulate a young _woman_ , yet he found himself doing so. McGonagall was a bird one had to take seriously. She was dispassionate. 

That, that _apassionatos_! It was what would be her downfall. A woman without a valve was just asking for the nearest man to pop her. 

_Pop her._ Tom smirked to himself. _Yes, if I could_ pop _Perfect Minnie McGonagall, I could rule her._

And in no time, she would not only recognize his power, but revere him for it. For like attracts like; he found her fascinating for her intelligence, calculation, reserve, and magical power and he expected that she would be enthralled when he showed her his greater prowess in all those things.

Power would once again call to power, and the one whose call was strongest would bring the other to heel. 

That would be satisfying, but more satisfying would be the coalescence of their powers to bring even the rest of the school, and then the rest of society, to kneel at their feet. 

_Yes,_ Tom thought. _That would be the most satisfying result at all._

McGonagall was now dismissing the meeting, passing out the timetables of rounds for the term as the other Prefects filed out. When the rest of them left, Tom rose. 

"Did you have a question, Mr Riddle?" McGonagall asked. "You hadn't seemed to be paying attention whilst we were discussing the timetables and the social calendar for the term." 

She stepped forward, holding his copy of the schedule out to him. Tom reached lazily for it, then around it. Instead of clasping the card, he clasped her wrist. With purpose. 

McGonagall inhaled sharply through her nose. "Mr Riddle, what do you mean by this?"

Tom stroked his thumb over the pulse point in her wrist, then looked into her eyes. He saw shock there and, probing just a bit into her mind, found anxiety as well. _She knows what I'm doing,_ he realised. He smirked. 

"You know what I'm doing," he said, "and it frightens you. Why?" 

McGonagall pursed her lips. Her glare was as grim as it was angry. "You wish to manipulate me. I will not be played with. Release my hand, Mr Riddle. _Now_." 

Tom let go, taking his timetable from McGonagall and placing it in the inside breast pocket of his robe. He lifted his other hand and ran the back of his fingers down McGonagall's cheek. He smiled at the spots of pink rising on her face. "But you're lovely, did you know that, Minerva?" he asked, opening his expression so he could see his earnestness, his desire. It _would_ be rare for her to hear words like that; underneath her anxiety, he had seen insecurity and, indeed, a deep loneliness. "People like us, we have so few with whom we can be accepted as we are." He did desire her, after all, though not in any innocent, Gryffindorish way.

He noticed the way she took a steadying breath before snapping her eyes back to his. _Good,_ he thought. _It always is easier to seduce a human than a stone statue._ He returned her gaze, letting the lids over his dark eyes form hoods in a way he'd learned young people found irresistible, and cocked his head, waiting for a response. 

"What do you mean, like us?" she finally inquired, her voice free of the tremor he'd been hoping to hear. It was, in fact, nearly staccato. 

"Intelligent. Disciplined." He leant closer, invading her space until their breaths mingled. "Powerful."

Tom's lips dropped to brush Minerva's, slowly, the way a calligrapher's brush or quill would drag with purpose through a stroke. He felt the air rush past him into her nose and her mouth move as if by reflex against his. He pressed their lips together again, sliding his tongue to just touch against her lower lip, seeking entrance; he raised his right hand to weave among the strands of her French-plaited hair and pull her closer...

Tom felt pain explode in his own lower lip.

The little cunt had _bit_ him. And as he jerked his head back in surprise, she pushed against his chest, sending him sprawling. 

"Do keep up, Riddle," McGonagall said. "I've no interest in congress with a little boy looking to feed his ego. I'd say you should Floo me when you grow up a bit, but I doubt I'll ever be interested in such a manipulative, insolent fool as yourself." She reached up to straighten her hair. "And if I hear of you attempting to seduce other students into doing your bidding, you can be sure that the Headmaster – not even Headmaster Dippet would ignore that charge – will be having a long talk with you and with the Board of Governors about your worthiness for Special Assistance to attend here."

Dumbfounded, Tom closed his eyes to regroup and heard her sensible boots clicking toward the doorway. 

"And mind that you pull your arse off the floor by curfew, Tom. I would hate to see Slytherin lose more points than this stunt of yours already has...." She trailed off, as if calculating something. "Your housemates will certainly miss those twenty points as it is." 

Tom's eyes flew open. The window on the door closing behind McGonagall reflected an odd crimson light glinting out of them. 

_She will pay,_ he hissed inwardly, his blood simmering with rage. _She will pay for rejecting me, and for any damage she does my reputation._

Hauling himself off the wood floor, he Muffled his feet and Disillusioned his body. Tonight was a night for relaxing by way of a visit to his pet, down in the Chamber of Secrets.


End file.
